Chapter 1
Prologue
The autumn leaves crunched beneath Evelyn Sinclair's designer boots as she strode down Fifth Avenue, her caramel-colored trench coat fluttering in the crisp Manhattan breeze. The city pulsed around her - yellow cabs honking, businessmen barking into phones, and the ever-present hum of ambition that made New York's elite thrive.
"Miss Sinclair!" A breathless voice called from behind. Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant, jogged to catch up, clutching an iPad like a lifeline. "Nathan Blackwood's office just confirmed your 3 PM at Blackwood Tower. And..." she hesitated, "...Victoria Hayes will be attending."
Evelyn's step faltered for just a heartbeat before she smoothed her expression. "Of course she will," she murmured, adjusting her Prada sunglasses. Victoria Hayes - Nathan's razor-sharp secretary who'd made it her personal mission to undermine Evelyn since their disastrous first meeting at the Met Gala.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming call from Serena Whitmore. "Darling," her agent's voice crackled through the line, "the Vanity Fair cover is confirmed, but they want exclusives about you and Nathan. The whole city's talking since the Hamptons incident."
Evelyn's fingers tightened around her phone. That damned yacht party where Nathan had pulled her into a moonlit kiss just as the paparazzi's flashes erupted. "Tell them they'll get what they pay for," she said coolly, spotting the imposing silhouette of Blackwood Tower ahead.
Inside the marble lobby, the elevator doors slid open to reveal Nathan Blackwood himself - all six-foot-two of tailored Armani power, his storm-gray eyes locking onto Evelyn with unsettling intensity. "You're late," he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Fashionably," she countered, stepping into his personal space with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what effect her Givenchy perfume had on him.
Victoria materialized beside them, her clipboard a weapon. "Mr. Blackwood, the Tokyo call starts in four minutes."
Nathan didn't glance away from Evelyn. "Reschedule it." The command hung in the air as the elevator ascended, carrying them toward a meeting that would send shockwaves through Manhattan's elite circles - and unravel secrets buried deeper than the foundations of Blackwood Tower.
Somewhere in the city, a new Gossip Girl post pinged across thousands of screens: Spotted: E and N playing with fire again. But darling, everyone knows fire either forges or destroys... which will it be?